To Know Your Enemy You Must Date Your Enemy
by flying werecats
Summary: To Know Your Enemy You Must Date Your Enemy... Kiss Your Enemy... Wear Your Enemy's Clothes... A continuation of Perfect Pest, written mostly as a writing exercise for practice. Marked as complete for now because I don't really know if and when additional chapters will be written.


Your dreams that night were a fog of hands and mouths and a deep-seated, purring contentment.

Your waking was like an _ice bath._

At least, it was once you remembered... At first, the dreams were a little embarrassing... certainly more realistic and... _involved_ than usual... but ultimately nothing to be alarmed at. It wasn't like you'd never dreamed of him before... not that you would ever admit it! But things had never gotten so out of hand while you slept before. Normally Thatch was as unobtainable in sleep as he was in life, forever dancing just outside of your grasp, always vanishing or turning away before you could be satisfied.

This time, however...

 _Hoooo boy._

It wasn't until you remembered last night that you bolted upright...

 _Skull, meet coffin. Yeah, you've met._

Falling back into your bedding, you clutched your injured head with both hands, groaning with pain and embarrassment.

 _I..._

 _I kissed him._

 _He kissed me._

 _He kissed me, and I kissed him._

 _ **I kissed Thatch.**_

As the order of events became clearer, and you began to pick out the reality of the situation from your still-lingering dreams, you groaned again.

 _I didn't just kiss him._

 _I..._

 _I made out with him?_

You stared at the roof of your coffin in horror. Yep. Horror. That is definitely the emotion you are feeling right now. Those sparks and tingles flickering to life all over your body? Definitely revulsion.

 _Oh._

 _My._

 _Gods._

Definitely disgust. Definitely shame. Definitely feeling repulsed and anxious right now, and not at all nervous and scared and a little...

Nope.

 _ **I.**_

 _ **Made.**_

 _ **Out.**_

 _ **With.**_

 _ **Thatch.**_

 _ **Manora.**_

Whelp. That's it, then. There can be no denying the tiny thrills running down your spine, nor the way your stomach tightens the more you think about it. Gods, you can't even _think_ about! It's just... too much.

It takes all of your willpower... with a little help from the distracting pain in your forehead... to clamp down on the internal screaming that threatens to become _external_ screaming at any moment.

And, oh gods... you just realized...

It's time to get up now.

It's time for breakfast.

And that means...

Giving your forehead one last, vigorous rub for good measure, you slide both hands down to cover your face, flop ungracefully to one side, and curl into a tight little ball.

Oooh, you do _not_ think you can face him.

Will he be mad? Will he be a smug prick about it? Or maybe, Kibosh help you... both?

Did he even _mean_ to kiss you? Was it a heat of the moment thing? Did he even _mean_ anything by it? You aren't sure you could take it if he just acted _normal_ like nothing had happened. _Had_ it even happened? Are you just going crazy, or...?

No. You remember it clearly.

 _Stop thinking dumb things!_

It isn't unreasonable to assume that a guy likes you when he _outright kisses you._ Besides... now that you think about it, you suppose it was always sort of obvious...

All that bullying. The pranks. The insults. The _stealing._

You wonder if he kept all of the things he stole. You always kind of assumed he did, but now it occurs to you that there might be a _sentimental_ reason for his doing so, and that makes you flustered. In fact, the longer you think about it, the more divided your thoughts become, until...

"(Name)?"

 _Mantha._

"You okay in there? Sounds like you bumped your head again." Her tone is playful, but bears a hint of worry to it that quickly captures your attention.

"Uh... Yeah, I'm fine! Just... just give me a minute."

You push the lid up, wincing as you do so. The sudden light doesn't help the pain in your head, although it's nearly faded away by now.

"You would think you'd learn to stop doing that," she teased.

"You would think they'd learn to make taller coffins."

She laughs, then gives you a mischievous grin.

"Your cheeks are grey."

"They're always grey," you mutter.

"More so than usual."

You roll your eyes. You can't think of a good response quick enough to throw her off, so denial seems the safest bet.

"You're blushing~!"

" _Am not._ "

 _So much for acting natural._

She giggles.

"It's okay, I understand!" She smirks. "Soooo... How did your _date_ go?"

You, like any rational young monster, sputter helplessly.

 _Mantha if you don't stop giggling, so help me..._

"I-it wasn't a _DATE!_ "

"Oh, of course not!" She leans in, giving you an 'innocent' smile. "You just went to the dance together, as a couple, and spent the whole time dancing with him like _nobody else_ was in the room... _Totally_ not a date."

"We didn't... I did so notice that there were other people in the room! I-"

"Oh, that's right! You didn't dance the night away together, did you? No, _you..._ " She gives you a knowing, positively **evil** smile. "...disappeared. _Both_ of you. And didn't come back."

"I... We wasn't... _I_ wasn't..."

Dang it, you can't even _talk_ properly!

Mantha's snickering does _not_ help.

Defeated, you sink back into your coffin with a moan.

"Uuuugh."

"Aw, come on! It was bound to happen eventually."

" _Uuuugh._ "

"I mean, everyone _knew._ "

" _Uuuuuuuugh._ "

"It's not like it wasn't totally obvious..."

"Mantha, I love you... but stop talking."

She just laughs. "Well, when you're ready to join the world of the unliving, feel free to come down for breakfast. We'll save you a seat."

You mutter a _thanks,_ and wallow in your own self-doubts for another minute or so after she's left. It takes you four minutes to decide to wear what you're already wearing, six minutes to realize that you're still wearing the dress from last night and to hastily throw on the outfit you normally wear every day, and five minutes to psych yourself up to even open the door out of the dorm. Seeing nobody waiting for you is... strange. It's not that you were really expecting him to, but some part of you is equally relieved and disappointed not to see Thatch there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed impatiently, looking vaguely annoyed with universe until he sees you, expression melting into a predatory, satisfied smirk, sliding away from the wall only long enough to back you into it, and then...

You physically slap yourself.

 _Goddammit, brain._

You make a mental note to offer it to Mantha, since it _doesn't look like you'll be using it anymore._

The cafeteria being on the first floor makes getting there, for you, rather easy. All you have to do is drop out a window, fly down to the main entrance, and cut through the foyer. Easy. But see, the problem with using a shortcut is, it doesn't give you any time to plan what you're actually going to _do_ once you get there.

And now you're here.

You have no idea how you're going to do this.

 _And you're out of time._

You take a deep blush... you mean breath... and force yourself to walk through the doors.

Like ripping off a bandaid, right?

...

Well, at any rate, now that you're here, you can finally turn that stubborn pride into a virtue and refuse to back down, because you've already jumped, and there's no going back now.

At first, nothing happens. No one even seems to notice you, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

It doesn't last long.

As soon as one person catches sight of you, they all do, heads turning and voices whispering. You feel your cheeks burning. Yeah, the school is small, and word travels quickly, but... _how many of them could possibly know...?_

You ignore them with a willpower of steel, and pray to every god from every pantheon you can think of that you don't look as awkward as you feel as you cross the room to join the students at the back of the line.

You ignore them as they whisper. You ignore them as they turn to look at you. You ignore them as they open their mouths to speak to you. You don't even care. You just want your food.

The sooner you sit down, the easier it will be to pretend that you _aren't_ scanning the room for any sign of Thatch.

Not that you need to. You can _feel_ that he's there, even if you can't _see_ him.

And also, it's _breakfast._ What's he gonna do, starve himself to avoid facing you?

 _Ha!_

You _wish._

In a surreal moment of detachment, you are too preoccupied with your own thoughts to question it when the line in front of you shrinks back. Somehow, it feels natural and right that the students directly in front of you should scatter, one unlucky peer getting shoved to the _ground_ with a whimper when he couldn't quite get out of the way quickly enough. For an instant, none of it seems important enough to even warrant a reaction, and then _hands_ are on you and you snap back into the real world because _oh Gods no._

You know those hands.

You and those hands became _very well acquainted_ recently.

"What are you doing at the back of the line?"

He's talking to you. He's dragging you to the front of the line and he's talking to you and _his hands are on you and everyone is staring and how in the Underworld did this actually manage to be even worse than you were expecting._

You don't even have a chance to respond. Which is just as well, really, since you don't really know what to say anyway. You're bewildered and embarrassed and horrified and maybe a little jumpy and you're starting to feel tingly again and it takes a will of titanium to resist reacting to it all with a series of ungodly noises that will probably get you sent to the Nurse's office. Or an asylum.

Honestly, you were doing better than you would have expected until you were stopped with a _jolt,_ now at the front of a grumbling, disgruntled line of hungry students and he turns to you with _those eyes._

"Hey." _Oh Kibosh help me he's making that face. How did I know he was going to make that_ _ **face?**_

"H-hhhey."

His smirk widens. You feel like you might die.

(Nevermind the fact that you're already undead, you are absolutely ready for Second Death, yes, sir.)

"You gonna order, or what?"

"Huh?"

"Your _food._ You know, breakfast?" _Oh Kibosh he just pulled you closer._ He tilts his head towards the cafeteria thing, who screeches impatiently. Several students behind you begin to grumble, but a harsh glare from over your shoulders shuts them up. He really does run this school, doesn't he? Most of it, anyway. "What? You didn't think I was gonna let you wait around at the back of line, did you?"

What.

 _What._

"Uhhh..." Before you can figure out how to put your confusion into words, a voice behind you pipes up.

"HEY! You're holding up the line! How come SHE gets to cut?"

 _Yes, exactly!_ You mean, Thatch cuts in line pretty much every day, but today is a particularly brazen display of power and you honestly aren't sure what to make of it. It would be one thing if he was just showing off, but now he's got you involved. He can't be doing this because of last night. He can't be thinking... what you think he's thinking, can he?

"Why SHOULDN'T she?" Thatch snaps back. "She's MY girlfriend, after all!"

 **What.**

Okay. You are. NINETY-FIVE PERCENT certain that you agreed to _no such arrangement._ In fact, you don't remember _talking_ at all... after your, uh, _outdoor activities_ you both sort of jumped apart and went your separate ways as some early retirees trickled out through the doors. You _think_ you remember him saying something to you as he left... a really arrogant remark, to which you eloquently responded with a "h-hhhuh?" He might've even laughed at you for that, you're not sure. You'd woven your way through the air, giddy and out of sorts, to stumble into your coffin still dressed.

He never asked you out, and you never, EVER agreed to this.

The students are clamoring now, some cries of shock and outrage mingling with a few loud proclamations of "I KNEW IT!" Apparently some of them had even bet on the outcome of the evening, if the groaning and smug demands for money were anything to go by. Seems Quasie owes Wolfie $20 now. _That's a lot of money to put down for this._

"H-hold on... I didn't..."

This is about the time that a few students... including Ra... decide to interject with their doubts about the claim. Which would normally be great for you, and you would have gladly thanked him, if it weren't for the fact that this only results in Thatch's hand squeezing tighter, effectively cutting you off with your own gasp.

"Yeah, right! (Name) would _never_ go out with _you!_ She's one of _us,_ remember?"

"What, you want proof?" Thatch sneers, stepping past you without letting go of your hand. Your eyes widen. _Oh. Oh, no. Oh, this is BAD._ You begin to tug at your wrist, but it's too late. "How's this for _proof?_ " And sure enough, a much stronger tug sends you tumbling into his chest as he turns... and suddenly the world has tilted and _oh stars, he dipped you, how in the Underworld did he even manage to-_

You're too shocked to struggle as his mouth meets yours, and the most you can manage is a half-hearted, belated squirming before you forget what you were even trying to do. The vague mortification and dread pulsing at the back of your mind is washed over by electricity and heat. If his hand in yours was embarrassingly overwhelming, this is just on another plane of sensation entirely!

A horrid _screeching_ cuts through your momentary amnesia, and Thatch pulls away with an annoyed growl to face the school's cafeteria lady, who is evidently less than pleased with the display. The arm that supported you when he'd dipped you pulls you up with him, and now you've got an arm around your back pressing you into his side _while the whole school looks on in shock and horror._

You hear a high-pitched, girlish squealing sound from somewhere close by, and it isn't until the voice begins speaking that you realize _it was coming from Dummygirl. Of all people._ "I told you!" She all but shrieks, a loud _thump_ announcing the punch she just delivered to Slither's arm, followed by a low ' _ow! Not cool, D!_ '

A tray of food interrupts your mortification, as the cafeteria thing forces it into your unprepared, panicking hands. You don't remember ordering.

"Come on, you're sitting with _us_ today!" He drags you away from the others and towards one of the far tables. You hesitate, resisting. "What?" Thatch whispers suddenly in your ear, grinning. You tense up. "Being with me has its perks."

 _Sweet Underworld, what have you gotten yourself into?_

The Gods only know why, but you let him pull you to your new table. You don't even resist when he has you sit. You realize as his tray clatters onto the table beside yours that their contents are exactly the same. Did he order _for_ you?

...How did he know Choco-Bites were your favorite?

"So I've been thinking..." Thatch says, sliding onto the bench beside you. You try to scoot away, but your resistance is futile... you're already on the literal edge of your seat, and he's _deliberately_ got his leg pressed up against yours. You're hip to hip now. Can this get anymore embarrassing?

On second thought, you probably shouldn't tempt the gods... you're clearly not on their good side today.

It takes you a moment to realize that he's talking to you, and for a moment you're just relieved that he doesn't seem to be expecting a response.

"How does Wednesday sound? I would've set something up earlier but the gang's completely _booked_ 'til then. I mean, you _could_ come pour slime into everybody's desk with us tonight, but I figured you wouldn't want to. Since you're part of the _Hero Squad_ and all."

 _Oh wait what._

Is he talking about what you think he's talking about?!

...

 _Wait._

 _ **You're**_ _an everybody!_

"If you put slime in my desk Manora I will personally demonstrate the meaning of the word _defenestrate_ and throw you out the nearest window."

He grins.

"You know I can fly, right?"

" _Not with your wings tied together, you can't._ "

He looks far too eager for your tastes. You suspect your threat has not been taken seriously.

"Maybe I won't, for a kiss~"

" **No.** "

"Aw, come on. _You weren't exactly complaining earlier..._ "

" _We're not even dating! You never asked me out!_ "

"Like I said, I didn't hear any complaints..."

You give him your best evil eye. The effect may have been tainted by the fierce grey of your cheeks, which feel almost painfully hot against your normally cold skin, but he yields.

"Alright, alright! Tell you what..."

You already don't like where this is going.

"...If I _officially_ ask you out, will you meet me on the roof Wednesday night? I'll even do it _properly._ "

You're not sure how to respond to that.

"...Fine," you mutter, picking at your food with a spoon.

"Great. So... (Name), will you go out with me?"

 _I mean._

 _It's not like you can say_ _ **no.**_

You refuse to look at him.

"...Sure."

 _You can feel the smirk without turning around. This guy is absolutely ridiculous. Why did you agree to this. What in Kibosh is wrong with you._

"Cool." _That smug voice. This smug boy. You should just shove him out of his seat. Honestly._ "Now if you kiss me, I might not even slime your desk tonight!"

" _You wouldn't._ You're not allowed."

"It's cute how you think that'll stop me~"

"I mean it! I'm your... _girlfriend_ now." _Gah. It's hard to say._

"Hmm." He taps his chin, pretending to think. _So smug. You just wanna shove his beautiful smug face right off this bench._ "That's true. I _guess_ I could tone it down a _little._ How about, I leave you alone Wednesdays and Thursdays? No pranks!"

You glare at him.

"...Fine. Wednesday through Friday. That's my final offer."

You sigh.

"Deal. But if you slime my desk, I'm breaking up with you."

"Deal."

You shake on it. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth despite your best efforts, and you turn back to your food in a deliberate and futile attempt to hide.

"That goes for my locker too, by the way."

"Fine."

"And stop stealing my pens!"

"Maybe if you kiss me~"

"I'm serious! Those are the good pens!"

"I know, that's why I steal them."

 _Ugh._

" _Why am I dating you._ "

"Because I'm a good kisser?"

You groan and pull the edges of your cape down to hide your face. He laughs, and you roll your eyes and smile, knowing he can't see it.

You don't know if this is a miracle or a disaster, but it's certainly the start of... well... something!


End file.
